


The Least of These

by jimmythemystic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angelic Grace, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Hates Himself, Character Death, Chuck is God, Coda, Dean protects, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, POV Castiel, Season/Series 11 Spoilers, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmythemystic/pseuds/jimmythemystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're both expendable." Ambriel's words strike a belief Castiel was trying very hard not to think about. She is right. He is expendable. </p>
<p>Alternative ending to 11X10 "Devil in the Details" where Cas doesn't say yes. And then, beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Expendable

"That's why we're here right? We're expendable." Castiel bristled automatically at Ambriel's words, but really, he didn't disagree with her. He'd known for as long as he had existed that he was a soldier, and soldiers are expected to be willing to die for their cause. Once, years ago, he'd thought siding with the Winchester's changed things. They seemed to care for people on an individual level. Slowly, though, he'd grown to know, that the sentiment had limitations. Mainly, humanity. Sam and Dean clearly cared for him, of course. But it seemed to be on a more impersonal level. They cared for him like you might care for an excellent weapon. When Castiel had fallen into the human condition, Dean had asked him to leave, and Castiel had become sure. He was a soldier to them as well. A weapon. He was, truly, expendable. Perhaps it was a side effect of suffering the human condition, but Castiel didn't like to think about his status as a weapon. As an Angel, he wasn't supposed to have feelings, and certainly not ones that hurt. On top of that, it was plain unpleasant to consider his status a weapon, a soldier. A skilled weapon, he assured himself. But, as Ambriel had noted, an expendable one.

It didn't matter really, whether his end was today or not, Castiel told himself as he walked through the woods with Ambriel. He would die for the Winchesters any day. It was his purpose, to be useful for them. He tried very hard to avoid Ambriel's comments about his brethren, and their opinion of him. If he did listen, he knew he would feel the sharp jab of pain. He already saw them, whenever he closed his eyes. Fields, acres, of his brothers and sisters, that he himself had slain. Their betrayal as he stabbed and killed one after another. He always had what he felt were good reasons, at the time. Survival, clearing out Raphael's followers, protecting the Winchesters. It all boiled down to one thing: thousands of his brothers and sisters would never exist again due entirely to him. He had killed them. He had watched their Grace burn out, witnessed their blackened wings on the grounds of Heaven and Earth. Nothing he could ever do would overcome his sins, his crimes. The best he could hope for was to be a weapon. To help Sam, and Dean. They were chosen, their plans so sure. He would help them until he died, and he deserved neither empathy nor rest. Castiel had to swallow down bile as they found Amara, and he saw the resulting death of yet another of his sisters. 

For reasons he could not fathom, Amara did not kill him, as he deserved. Instead, she burned a message for Dean into his skin, his chest. The pain was insurmountable, and he couldn't suppress a cry that was wrenched from his throat, screaming out as he was "zapped" into Hell. Castiel stood up, taking a breath to brace against the pain, and started off to find Dean. He was sure Dean would be disappointed that Amara hadn't died. Unfortunately, Castiel knew he couldn't get rid of the Darkness on his own, although if he could, he would try, for Dean. It was weird, being in Hell again. The last time he was here, he had pulled Dean, the Righteous Man, from the Pit. It had been the most glorious moment of his existence, soaring in. Dean's eyes had widened with hope, for the first time in 60 years, but then flashed with fear. He had thought Castiel was there to smite him. The joy of proving him wrong, of saving Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man, and the joyous sounds of his siblings when he did so, still sits warm in Castiel's chest as he remembers it. It is the most worthy thing he has ever done. The only thing of worth that didn't involve hurting someone to get to the final goal. Castiel walked the halls of Hell towards Dean, this time not to save him, but to inform him that not only had Amara survived, but that he could not even fight her. He steadied himself, made sure his face would betray no emotion, then opened the door where he knew Dean was, talking to Crowley, and probably Rowena. His suspicions confirmed, the three of them were talking together over some sort of spell. Dean's eyes immediately met his, and Castiel's resolve weakened. He could see in Dean's eyes that Dean realized Amara was still alive. He opened his shirt, to the words burned into his flesh, showing Dean the marks of his failure, and the message of the enemy. He lowered his eyes, not wanting to see Dean's disappointed expression.

He startled to the feel of Dean's hand on his shoulder. He looks up into the green eyes of the Righteous Man. Dean looks concerned, and Castiel is ashamed. "Cas, man, you okay?" The pain in his chest had almost subsided, so he nods. "I'm fine, Dean." Dean shakes his head, and, to Castiel's shock, pulls him into a hug and exhales "Dude, you're alive." Castiel only just remembers to hug back, and a little light he's grown to know as hope has ignited in his chest, but Dean has already pulled away, the concerned look still in his eyes. "Sammy's in the cage, again. We figured out the spell to banish Lucifer back to where he normally is, but I gotta go be there for Sammy, man." Castiel shakes his head. Dean's love for his brother is unrivaled by anything Castiel had previously witnessed on earth or in Heaven, but if Dean goes, he might get stuck in the cage as well. "Dean, it is unwise. Lucifer may yet draw you in and use you as bait against Sam." Dean, though his intelligence is great, has no self-preservation instinct when it comes to Sam, and he shakes his head and barrels down the hallway when they hear Sam cry out. Castiel is on his heels. If Dean is going, he might need backup, and Castiel will do anything to protect his charges, even when it surely means death for him.

Throwing open the door to the temporary cage, Castiel sees that Lucifer is laughing, and Sam is slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple. "Sammy! I'm here! It's okay, man, just hang in there!" Lucifer turns to look at Dean, and smirks, "what is this? Some sort of heavy boxing match? Come join us!" Suddenly, Castiel finds himself standing next to Dean, in the cage. Dean immediately rushes to Sam's side, so Castiel steps in front of the Devil himself, an enemy he knows he could never beat, and also, a brother. Lucifer smirks at his actions. "Good old Castiel, huh? Come to die for the Winchesters? For wittle Dean and his bwaby bwother Sammy?" Castiel straightens, "If need be." Then he's pinned against a wall, blows landing on him as Lucifer throws punch after punch. "I'll let you die, Castiel" he whispers in Castiel's ear, "that'll soften Sammy up to me, don't you think?" Castiel grimaces, tries to somehow fight back. However, an Angel with broken Grace is no match for a high powered Archangel, and Lucifer is merciless as he beats the life out of Castiel. He can only hope he will hold out long enough for the spell to take hold, and that Sam and Dean will escape further injury. He looks up, in time to see Dean throw himself onto Lucifer's back, punching as he lands. "Let go of my angel!" Castiel warms to the sound. Lucifer is taken off guard for a second, but recovers quickly, throwing Dean against the wall. Castiel struggles to try and get to his feet, the urge to protect Dean overwhelming. He is Dean's angel, and he will fight for Dean. He staggers, falling over in front of Dean. Lucifer throws his head backs and laughs at the sight. "Look at how far you have fallen, Castiel! Desperate to die for some human. You are a traitor to our kind. It will be my genuine pleasure to put you out of your misery." He leans in close to Castiel, "or... YOU could say yes. Protect your precious Winchesters while I destroy the Darkness, like the good old days. I can really beat her, little brother. I can." Castiel drags in a breath. Lucifer is telling the truth. Or, at least, he thinks he is. There is a right answer. A way to help Dean and Sam. He will let Lucifer control his vessel, burning himself into eventual death, and the Darkness will be beaten, Sam and Dean will be safe. Castiel opens his mouth, to answer, to say yes. Before he can, he feels a strong arm cover his chest, and he realizes Dean is trying to protect him. Dean, trying to protect him, a worthless, broken, expendable Angel. Castiel turns his face to meet his brother's, "No." Light pours into Lucifer and he is flung out, back to the cage in the deepest part of Hell.


	2. Broken

The ride back to the bunker was a quiet one. Dean drove through the night, visually checking on Sam whenever he thought Sam wasn't looking. Castiel sat in the back seat, and as he thought of this, he decided it was figurative as well as literal. Castiel was also checking on someone, gently sending out his Grace to see if Dean was alright. He and Sam were both beat up, but both had refused to let Castiel heal them. Castiel wasn't sure quite why, but he thought it might have something to do with the idea that as their literal wounds healed, their minds would heal with it. That was how Sam had explained it to Castiel once. Sam had said that, barring life threatening injuries, things like bruises and cuts were a physical reminder of what happened, and that as they healed, their minds could put the matter to rest. So Castiel hadn't pushed the matter, though he monitored both Winchesters for signs they might like him to heal them. Thus far Sam had somehow managed to fall asleep against the door of the Impala, his large body looking smaller and more innocent in sleep. Dean was content to stare at the road, sometimes murmuring comments Castiel assumed were meant for Baby, going to the beat of his own drum. One of the worst parts of riding in a car, in Castiel's opinion, is that there is so much time to simply think, and nothing to do to distract you from your thoughts. Thinking was not something Castiel wanted to do. Normally, he would fly wherever the Winchesters were going, but even after regaining his Grace, he was painfully weak. His Grace was in tatters, so he was in a sort of limbo between humanity and angelic existence. Part of the consequences were that Castiel now had to take human transportation wherever he went, if he didn't want to be out of commission for a while. So, naturally, his thoughts drifted to things he would rather not think about. After all, he had been weak, pathetically so. He had said "No" to perhaps the only person who could save the planet from the Darkness. And for what reason? Dean. Wasn't that always the reason, in Castiel's existence? Dean had shown, through his actions, that he wanted Castiel protected from Lucifer. So Castiel had said "No." What choice should a weapon have in the matter? It seemed right at the time, but now, riding in the dark, staring out at the stars above the lonely highway, he second guessed his decision. What if it cost them Dean's life? Or Sam's? He would never be able to live with himself if they died because of his weakness. So, Castiel tried to avoid thinking, instead, staring mindlessly at the stars and listening to the rumble of the car.

They made it back to the bunker by morning light, Sam and Dean going straight to bed. Castiel gravitated towards the TV, where he usually went when Sam and Dean didn't have a mission for him. He was in the process of watching the Lord of the Rings, which, according to Sam, was one of Dean's favorite movie series of all time. It was interesting, quite like the Middle Ages and yet, very unlike the Middle Ages. Especially in what the humans looked like. He was pretty sure that humans hadn't conformed to the same standards of attractiveness back then, and their armor was more functional. Perhaps the movies had had a "low-budget" as Dean said when movies skipped out on things. However, he liked the Legolas Elf. He was reminiscent of Angels, in that his immortality and speed afforded him strength and agility, not unlike Castiel's own. However, the Legolas Elf always seemed to be right, and he never hurt those he cared about, the opposite of Castiel. He watched the final movie, and after it was over, he turned off the television. He ignored the wetness in his eyes, instead choosing to sit silently in the dark, overrun with his own thoughts, which swirled darker and darker.

He didn't realize Dean had come into the room until he felt the couch bend next to him, and he startled slightly, looking through the dark to find Dean sitting two feet away from him. "You okay?" Dean was stubbornly not looking at him, probably because he was upset with Castiel, he thought to himself. "I am fine, Dean." Dean snorted, and shook his head, a sure sign of his disbelief. "Dude, the whole bunker is black, even the windows, and it's noon." Now Castiel understood. His dark mood had affected the lighting in the bunker, and Dean wished to see. "Oh. I am sorry, Dean." The room immediately lightened a bit, with Castiel reigning in his thoughts. They sat in silence for a while. Dean drew in a breath several times, and opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, before closing it again and sighing. Castiel waited patiently: whatever Dean had to say, he would wait for it. However, it seemed that Dean had given up on whatever he was going to say. Castiel sensed he was going to rise in a moment, yet he himself wanted to express, somehow, his remorse at his failures. Dean deserved to know that he had failed to say yes, failed in his only task, being Dean's weapon. "I will make this up to you, somehow, Dean." His voice came out quietly, not as strong as he would have liked. Dean looked up in surprise, "It was just the lights, Cas. Don't worry about it." Castiel shook his head sadly. Perhaps Dean did not even know how useless Castiel was. Surely, he knew. Surely he could see how he had betrayed his own kind, and failed to help humanity in any real way. Dean was simply too kind to tell him he was useless, worthless, expendable. That was it, surely. Castiel's voice caught in his throat, and any explanation he could have given died as Dean clapped him on the shoulder and stood. "I'm going to make coffee. Want some?" Castiel nodded his assent. He would drink the coffee that Dean made, even though Sam made it smoother, and then Castiel would figure out how to make himself worth something again. He sighed. His plan making skills were becoming as vague and wildly unreachable as Dean's.


	3. Restless

After Sam and Dean had both woken, they all sat in silence around the dining room table. Usually, they'd be coming up with a plan, far-fetched though they tended to be, but right now, no one broke the silence. No one said what they were all thinking, "What do we do now?" It hadn't been God calling to Sam, it had been Lucifer, and Castiel's brothers and sisters had been unable to smite Amara. It was really a bad sign, on Dean's part, that he wasn't assuring everyone that they'd "figure it out." The truth was, no one knew if it could be figured out. Not Castiel, not the Winchesters, or the Angels in Heaven, or the King of Hell. And God? Well, He had left His children on their own. This time, it really could be the end of everything. Castiel clasped and unclasped his hands under the table. What was he to do? What was anyone to do? Castiel had trained in Heaven, had become the best in Heaven at strategy, and now, what was he? At a loss, when it mattered the most. Castiel looked around the table, at the faces of his companions. Sam was staring at the table, eyes red and bloodshot, lost in thought. No doubt his sleep had been filled with memories of the cage. Dean, for his part, was studying Sam quietly. This, for some reason, gave Castiel a measure of calm. The world might be ending, and soon, but Dean was still trying to look out for Sam's well being. That tiny semblance of normalcy reminded Castiel that though the world might end, some things could never be broken.

Finally, Dean took a deep breath, drawing Sam and Castiel's attention, and declared "Well, I read about a potential vamp nest in Fort Wayne. How soon till we can clear out?" Sam shook his head, but a tiny smile ghosted across his face. "Give me an hour." Sam stood, getting ready to use his hour. Dean turned to Castiel. "I am ready whenever you ask, Dean." Dean nodded, "Half an hour then. Half an hour, Sammy!" Sam just shrugged good-naturedly and went to pack. Castiel ensured that he had his two Angel blades secured, and then followed Dean into the kitchen, where he had started throwing beer into a cooler. With Sam in mind, Castiel discreetly slid a smoothie into the cooler when Dean wasn't paying attention. They worked silently, having co-existed so long that words didn't need to be spoken, Castiel and Dean just knew what to do. It comforted Castiel, like an elaborate dance, walking this way, loading this, packing that, mindlessly moving in sync. Exactly 42 minutes later, Sam, Castiel, and Dean were in the Impala and on their way to Indiana.

Castiel suspected that Dean's favorite things to hunt were vampires, if for no other reason than the "research" section of the hunt was usually spent hopping from bar to bar until they figured out which one the vampires frequented. For the same reason, Castiel assumed that vampires were Sam's least favorite thing. Personally, Castiel tended to wonder how vampires got the money to frequent bars in the first place, or why they would enjoy drinking. Perhaps bars were just simply the best places to abduct people, or vampires enjoyed remembering what it was like to be human and go out for a drink. Castiel and Sam usually sat and observed the bar attendees while Dean flirted his way through the bar, gathering information, and phone numbers. Unfortunately for Dean, they struck gold on only the second bar, hearing that a large group of people frequented the bar together late at night, and were never seen during the day, and lived remotely. They checked into a local motel, and Sam set his laptop up. With an inquiry into the internet, Sam had them an address. They decided to attack the nest during the day, when the vampires were at their weakest. According to the bartender, there were between ten and fifteen who frequented the bar, leaving them to guess that there were probably around twenty vampires in the nest. They stopped to eat at some diner, greasy burgers for Dean and Castiel, and a salad for Sam. The meal passed in relative silence. Castiel had missed eating as a human, but now that he has to do so again, he also remembers how tiring it is, to have to break and eat at least twice a day. It was so much easier to not need to sleep or eat. Eventually they finished, and they started driving up, around one, they found the barn. It was one of those type that were on all the postcards. Red, with the white x's through the doors. Castiel wondered why humans would paint a barn red, and mentally filed it under "things to ask the internet later."

They split up, and with a pointed look from Dean, Castiel went with Sam, knowing that Dean would rather Castiel make sure Sam was okay. Quietly, Sam jimmied the back lock open, and they entered the barn. Their estimate had been to conservative. There were easily forty vampires in here, thankfully sleeping, since it was just after one in the afternoon. Castiel signaled to alert Dean to their presence on the other side of the barn, and Dean nodded. So they got to work, cutting heads off as quietly as possible, so as not to set off the alarm. They'd not even gotten through half the nest when the vampires started to stir, and then a scream, and they were all on them. Dean ran to join Castiel where he stood with Sam, and they stood back to back to back, and fought tooth and nail. This, at least, Castiel was good at. He was an accomplished warrior, and as his specialty was the blade, he thrived in the nest, whirling and slicing and cutting. The feeling of battle filled his veins, strength only adrenaline lends coursing through him. On one hand, Castiel hated fighting. Every life that Castiel took felt like another tally against him, another stain on him. However, there was also a calm that came over him. His purpose lay here, being a weapon for a greater good, and fulfilling his purpose felt, well, right. The rest fight passed in a blur, as Castiel fought. Finally, they had finished, bodies littering the floor. There had been forty one vampires.


	4. Shattered

The next few days pass uneventfully. Sam studies everything he can find in the Bunker's extensive library, and Dean even helps occasionally. Castiel isn't sure he knows the point of this, there could be nothing written about the Darkness, as she was last seen before the dawn of time. He supposes they are striving for a busy feeling, a need to feel useful in a world where there are no solutions. He finds himself wishing he could do something useful. He's not, though. Useful. He hasn't been truly useful to the Winchesters in a very long time. During the first apocalypse, maybe. Since then, he's been useless. A burden. Sooner or later, he thinks, the Winchesters will realize this. Perhaps they will send him away. Castiel knows that if he is sent away, useless to all those he cares for, he'll end his own existence. He spends his time around the bunker wondering how he would want to do it. Is he still enough Angel to need to use the blade on himself? He probably should, to be safe. Other alternatives sound more pleasant, but it all boils down to the fact he might not die if he doesn't fall on his own blade, and he deserves to die.

Sam notices something is off, Castiel thinks. Dean perhaps knows as well, but Dean's coping mechanism involves shutting everyone out, so Sam tends to be the one that breaks first to say something. Sam seems to have decided that today is that day, so he tries to appear nonchalant as he leans in the doorway of Castiel's room in the bunker. "Hey Cas. Got a minute?" Castiel dips his head, "Of course, Sam." Sam enters and sits on the end of Castiel's bed. He is quiet for a moment, perhaps gathering his thoughts or maybe just unsure how to start. Castiel braces himself for whatever Sam asks him. He won't keep the truth from Sam, even though it might mean that Sam will ask him to leave. "You seem off, Cas. I know the Cage was a big disappointment, for all of us. How are you holding up?" That's Sam, up and down. Always asking, always wanting to listen. Castiel finds that part of him, wants to talk about it, to someone. "I'm just fine Sam. I wonder though, if I shouldn't have said yes to Lucifer, and made this easier on you and Dean." Sam looks taken aback, puzzling over this new knowledge. Dean would call it, "being nerdy", Castiel is sure. "Wait. Can that even happen? Can two Angels posses the same body at the same time? Could he have even asked you, Cas?" Castiel shrugs thoughtfully. "It's never been done before, but I'm not sure that means that it couldn't happen. He did ask me, however, which I would assume means that in some fashion it could have worked." Sam's jaw drops. "He asked you?! What did you say? If you're possessed could you say so?" Castiel shakes his head, "I said no, Sam. I'm sorry. Lucifer does not inhabit this vessel. I am no one but me. I suppose you will just have to trust me on that. I do apologize for my answer, Sam. I should have spared you pain and taken on my brother to stop the Darkness." Sam simply shakes his head, staring at Castiel. Then, Sam gets up, "Excuse me for a minute, Cas." Castiel nods his assent and Sam leaves the room.

Now Sam knows, and Castiel can only assume Dean will know momentarily. At the same time, he feels lighter and heavier. It must be a human emotion. He has relief from his secret, knowing Sam and Dean see him as he is, and yet, he is filled with dread at what they will do to him now. In Heaven, a betrayal such as this meant Naomi. He remembered, and shuddered, at what it felt like to be punished and reset time and time again. Privately, Castiel doubts that Sam and Dean would be able to punish him in that way, as doing so would probably violate their own code of ethics. However, it possibility still sets Castiel on edge. However, the far worse alternative is by far the most likely one. They will ask him to leave. They will cut him away from their family, and Castiel will be alone. Discarded and disliked by the only two existences he had ever known, the Winchesters and Heaven. When Castiel finally hears the knock on the door, he finds his hands shaking, and Dean enters. Castiel finds he cannot meet Dean's eyes again, ashamed of the disappointment he'll find there. "So you said the big No to the guy downstairs, huh Cas?" Castiel huffs a breath. When Dean decides to talk, he doesn't beat around the bush. "Yes, Dean. Although I think the perception of the Cage being downstairs is false. There are no stairs into Hell." Dean gives a short laugh at this. "Well, I'm proud of you, Cas." Castiel jerks his head up to stare at Dean, but now Dean has taken up studying the wall. "What?" Dean shakes his head, "You heard me. I'm not saying it again, man." Castiel is exasperated. Does Dean truly not understand? "Dean. I am not human, I am still partially an Angel of the Lord, and it is my job to protect you and Sam, and Lucifer might have been that best bet. I said no, Dean. I have failed, once again, to protect you or Sam. And once again, humanity was at stake and I made a selfish choice. It was my responsibility to say yes." At Castiel's words, or perhaps his tone, Dean whips his head to look at Castiel, anger flashing in his eyes. "Lucifer is a giant pile of bad decisions, Cas. Letting him out is on nobody's to-do list. He tortured Sammy, remember? Tried to destroy the world? Ring a few bells?" Castiel looks down, realizing he has somehow let Dean down yet again. 

All the heat drains out of him, and he feels wetness in his eyes. He is becoming more human every day, and that means the littlest things can push him to these human tears. A firm hand claps on his shoulder, and Dean exhales, and gentles. "Cas, man. It isn't your job to protect Sammy and me. We all take care of each other, it isn't your responsibility." Castiel's throat chokes up, and he feels like his chest is constricting, he really might begin to cry now. "Dean, I am not a helpful member of this family. I can't do anything right. I am sorry, Dean." Then he begins to make choking noises, the wetness starting to slide down his face. He averts his eyes, wishing Dean wouldn't notice, and yet, hoping he would. Dean sighs, slides over, and wraps his arms around Castiel. Being hugged, it's a strange sensation. It should be even more constricting, but somehow, it isn't. Castiel remembers to hug back, and he does so. Irrationally, it feels comforting, and Castiel allows himself to feel comforted. He manages to take a deep breath, and relaxes marginally, the weakness over for the moment. Somehow, he feels less powerless than before. Perhaps that is the good thing about humans, they can feel hope even when there is none, and for once, Castiel is proud to be becoming human. Dean squeezes him tighter, then lets go. Dean looks at him seriously. "You're family. We want you to be you, and nobody else. Cursed or not, remember?" Castiel nods, and feels a little bit more of the weight surrounding him easing. Dean nods back, then rises. "I'm cooking burgers tonight. Don't tell Sam, but I hid all his freaky rabbit food stuff." Castiel quirks a small smile, which Dean returns before heading to the kitchen. Castiel leans back on his bed, spent. He'll just lay here for a minute or two, and recover. Closing his eyes will help. Yes, just a minute, then he'll get up...


	5. Rock Bottom

Putrid stench fills his nostrils, and the sound of screaming fills his ears. Castiel looks around desperately, trying to figure out where he is. Then he sees Dean and he remembers suddenly. He is in Hell, and he needs to save Dean. Dean is smiling grotesquely from across the room, though he looks uninjured for the time being, so Castiel knows he needs to work fast. He tries to fly, but finds that he can't. Struggling, he looks down and discovers that he is tied to a rack. He struggles harder, his angelic strength should be enough to break him free. Looking within himself, he finds that his weakened Grace is fading once more, and he cannot move a muscle. Then he struggles with his human form, fighting against the bonds uselessly. "Dean!" He calls out, hoping somehow Dean will remember himself and come help get them both out of here. Dean walks over, his smile wicked and twisted, and something in Castiel hurts at the sight of it. Dean twirls a knife in his hand. Where did he pick up the knife? Castiel is sure he didn't have it a moment before. "Ah, Castiel. The sinner. The betrayer. Come to pay his dues." If Castiel hadn't seen Dean's mouth move, he'd have been sure it wasn't Dean who had said it. "...Dean?" Dean's smile grows even more, if possible. "Yes, Castiel, it is time to pay for your sins. The first Angel to earn Hell's punishment. Fitting, wouldn't you say?" Castiel shakes his head. This isn't Dean. It can't be. This Dean reminds him of the Dean with the Mark, but the Mark is nowhere to be seen. He has to break through to Dean, he can't let Dean do something he'll hate later, even if Castiel deserves whatever Dean has to dish out. "Dean, this isn't you. Don't do this. Don't become this again. Not because of me." Castiel knows he deserves Hell. Deserves every punishment. But Dean? Dean doesn't deserve to be down here again. Doesn't deserve to become the monster he hates. "Oh, it's not just Dean." The silky sweet voice patronizes as he comes into Castiel's field of vision, and his heart hits his feet. "Oh, Sam... Not you too." Sam smirks at Dean, and holds up a knife of his own. Then they turn to him. "We're done with you, Castiel. Even as a weapon, you failed us one too many times. Now it's time to pay, Castiel." They set upon him, eyes sparkling with vengeance as they cut into him, carving and tearing and slicing. When Castiel starts screaming, they start laughing. "I'm sorry! I am so sorry!" He cries into the faces of his family and they list his sins and laugh as he screams and sobs. When he closes his eyes, they cut his eyelids off. When he bites his lip to keep from screaming, they cut his lips off. Somehow, through the power of Hell, he can feel every pain, mounting beyond what is knowable, into a raging inferno that must last for millennium as he pays for his sins. He doesn't wish for it to end. He deserves it, he knows he does. Selfishly though, he does want it to end. To fade into nothingness and non existence. Instead, he chokes on his own blood as Sam slaps Dean on the back, proud of the pain they are causing him. "I'm so sorry Sam... Dean..." he chokes. Then Dean smiles, and stabs him straight through.

His scream is cut short by someone shaking his shoulders hard. "Cas! Cas! Wake up, man!" Cas shudders awake in a dark room, Sam and Dean hovering over him. Sam gently puts a hand on his shoulder. "It was just a dream, Cas." Castiel takes a deep breath, letting the dream fade for the moment. "Since when do you need to sleep, man?" Dean asks him, concern on his face. It's a good question. He takes a shaky breath. "I believe that between Rowena's spell and the already weakened state of my Grace, I am in a semi-human state, and may remain so for quite a while." Dean nods. "Want to eat?" Suddenly, Castiel DOES want something to eat. He nods, and Dean and Sam leave the room, probably to make food.

Castiel sighs. Just a dream. The relief is mixed. The nightmare was terrifying, and he finds himself trembling at the memory of it. At the same time, though. He deserves that dream. He deserves everything that happened, after everything he has done. It would be too much to ask for to simply pay for his mistakes and then descend into non being. No, Castiel must suffer the worst of tortures: living every day knowing what he is, what he has done, unable to make up for his sins, for eternity. Long after Sam and Dean pass into Heaven, Castiel will still be trapped to wander the earth, alone with his guilt. It is, in Castiel's opinion, the ultimate punishment. Wandering alone. His heart hurts at the very thought of his future, stretched out endlessly before him. For now, though, for Sam and Dean's sake, he will pretend that all is well. They seem determined to live as if he is their equal, and he supposes they have earned the right to behave however they wish towards him. He puts on yet another mask, a mask of equal, of friend. Sam and Dean don't like to be reminded that he is nothing but a weapon, and prefer to think of him as often as they can pretend as a person.

He heads into the kitchen where Dean has inexplicably made pancakes. He cocks his head in confusion and ventures to ask: "I am under the impression that humans usually partake in this sort of sustenance during the morning hours." Sam smiles, and offers Castiel a chair, which he takes. "Dean eats pancakes whenever he feels like it, Cas. Sometimes humanity can't be explained." Castiel feels more than sees the eye roll that Sam sends towards his brother. Dean just smiles, "Dang right. I'm a grown man, and that means making pancakes whenever I feel like it. Free will, man. Free will." Sam snorts. "Yeah, Dean." 

Humanity and their individuality, Castiel thinks. Each one so different, yet tied together with bonds of love and friendship, a kinship of the species. It's no wonder that Father likes them best of all creatures He has made. His first children, Castiel and his siblings, mindless weapons. They failed at every recorded attempt at free will. Castiel knows he must have failed his Father many times. Humanity is different, though. Forgiving and well meaning, humanity has a lot of bad, but here, in the kitchen with Sam and Dean, it's obvious that the good will always outweigh it. His lips twitch in a small smile as Sam covers his pancakes in Peanut Butter and Dean drowns his in syrup. Castiel tries out both, and decides that pancakes are best with both Peanut Butter AND syrup. Sam and Dean both eye him suspiciously, and Castiel knows they are feigning disgust at his culinary decision to make a joke. So, naturally, he takes a huge bite and makes a Dean-eating-pie sound. Dean laughs outright, smiling fondly at Castiel when he thinks Castiel can't see, and Sam starts a huge discussion about the pancake preferences of humanity. Castiel learns that some humans eat chocolate or fruit or nuts in their pancakes, that some put whipped cream on them, and a dozen pancake facts he will probably never use, but it warms him to see Sam animatedly talking about something so mundane. Dean too, seems amused by Sam's excited explanation of "Chocolate chip pancakes", and that's more than enough for Castiel. Or, Cas, as he's known here with his family. His little piece of Heaven here on earth, a gruff man who makes pancakes at 3 am and his enormous little brother who excitedly talks about anything from Enochian to pancakes.

After Sam finishes his dramatic spiel about the difference between pancakes and waffles, Dean looks up from his laptop, "Hey guys, so I found a case nearby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas's Pancake eating preferences are a tribute to my childhood best friend Joseph, who always liked to see if he could weird me out by swamping his pancakes with literally anything we had on hand just to joke with me.


	6. The Valley

They work the case. A siren, as it turns out.

Then they take another case.

Then another.

Castiel begins to find himself wondering what it's all for. The world is just going to end anyway, with Amara on the loose. Why take case after case?

Sam and Dean don't need him, so Castiel begins to stay at the bunker more and more. At first, he searches endlessly for a way to end Amara, but the last time she was loose was before human history had begun, and answers were impossible to find, especially since his brothers and sisters refuse to answer him, either because all of his allies he had slain with his own hand or those who are still loyal were afraid to be associated with him. Thus, the leads are few.

When they're all at the bunker, Sam helps Castiel go over everything they've observed about Amara. Every word she has said, every move she has made. They try and ask Dean, but he only gives short, two word answers to everything he is asked.

In particular, Sam seems interested in the last time Castiel had seen Amara. Before she had sent Castiel to Dean, words carved into his chest, she had grimaced. Just slightly, but it was the only sign of weakness she had ever showed. The problem was, Sam and Castiel could not figure out what had weakened her. Had it been the multitude of angels that attacked her? Or was it something else? They talked over it over and over and over, going round in circles. 

Dean, naturally, only drank, slept, and took more cases. 

Castiel wanted to join Dean. Drink himself into oblivion as the world readied itself to end yet again. But he couldn't. His lot was to know how useless he was. To be awake for every moment as the world ended, watching his family get torn apart. Besides, he was pretty sure Dean didn't even want the company.

It felt like there was a stone in his chest, one which got heavier day by day. It weighed him down, constantly present. Constantly reminding him that everything was his fault. It didn't help that there were omens of destruction left and right. Hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes. It felt like the very earth was rebelling against the presence of Amara. Demonic activity even diminished, a sure sign things were going terribly wrong.

A few weeks later, Sam noticed that the natural disasters were starting to center around one area, a lonely location all the way out in Alaska. No less than three hurricanes hit, one right after another. Castiel agreed that Amara was probably there. 

Dean, however, was in no mood to talk. His mood had been ever blackening and his drinking had continued to worsen. Nothing Sam said or did could convince him to stop, or to listen. Castiel had tried himself, to talk to Dean, hoping that some faded semblance of their profound bound remained. Dean had just offered him a beer, and when Castiel had declined, Dean had shrugged him off, choosing instead to stare into space.

After Castiel locks himself in his bedroom for the evening, he hears Sam and Dean fighting. Bottles smashing and yelling. He considers going out and intervening, but decides that Sam and Dean wouldn't want his interference. He overhears his name, though, and can't help but listen in a little bit. It's Dean's voice, "...and Cas being the way he is right now.." Sam's voice cuts in. "He's doing the best he can. We all are, Dean!" "Yeah well, nobody asked for any suicide missions, Sam! First Cas and now you! Just stop it, okay? It's over!" 

Castiel retreats back into his room, ashamed to have been listening, and finding that the rock in his chest sits even heavier. Now that he knows Dean is drinking and angry because of him. He crawls under the covers and stares at the wall, all night long, listening to the muddled sounds of Sam and Dean arguing.

The next morning finds Dean drinking coffee instead of his usual liquor, and Sam packing a bag. They look up when Castiel enters. "We're going to Alaska, Cas." Sam says not unkindly. Castiel nods his assent, and looks to Dean for assent, or approval? Why exactly is he looking at Dean? Castiel is never sure how, but somehow it always seems like Dean holds the answers that Castiel needs. Dean grunts in response to Castiel's gaze. "Grab your crap, Cas."

Castiel gathers his things.

Soon, they are on the road to Alaska.


	7. The Loveless One

The drive to Fairbanks, Alaska is a long one. Flying is out of the question, of course. Dean seemed more likely to stab both Sam and Castiel then and there than step foot in a "flying tube of death". Castiel has never been on a trip that took this long, and he wishes he were able to spread his wings and fly there. A further sign of his uselessness. Beyond that, it is simply uncomfortable to sit in a car for nearly 60 hours. Castiel meditated quietly on how far he had fallen. Upon reflection, it had really been pride, all along. He had thought he was above pride, above the shame Lucifer had brought upon the angels. Castiel had blindly assumed that since he loved humanity, he was exempt from pride, exempt from bad decisions. Oh, how wrong he had been. How blind. His decisions had been wrong, chosen on pride, hubris, his fatal flaw. Dean had tried to warn him, once, during the Civil War in Heaven. Castiel had refused to listen. He had been sure, so certain in his righteousness, God his Father had chosen him, brought him back time and time again from the dead.

Thinking back on it now, perhaps his Father had brought him back so that he could fix his mistakes, or perhaps as some twisted experiment. Any kind solution for the problem denied the truth: Castiel had been prideful, disobedient, and had fallen just as Lucifer had. As Dean drove through empty fields, stretching as far as the eyes could see, Castiel imagined that he could see the bodies of every undeserving Brother, Sister, and Human that he had ever slain. He saw hundreds of Deans, thousands of siblings, untold numbers of innocent humans who had gotten caught in the crossfire of his rage, his condemn-able actions. Somehow, no punishment seemed enough for his insurmountable sins. No eternal torture, no death, no eternal empty life could begin to fill the void that Castiel felt in his soul. He tuned back into his surroundings to hear some sort of car shaking music blasting through the Impala's speakers, no doubt one of Dean's beloved tapes. Sam had on his classic "Dean, you annoy the crap out of me" face, and Dean, mood much improved while on the road in his "Baby", was driving while slapping his hands rhythmically on the steering wheel and shooting Sam a "Shut up Sam" face.

Hours passed. They stopped for dinner at some restaurant decorated by a giant panda by the side of the road. Dean insisted on Castiel trying Chinese food, saying "You gotta taste the highlights of humanity, Cas!" All while Sam shook his head, the long suffering brother look seemingly permanently etched upon his face. Castiel found that he enjoyed the Chinese food, although he explained to Dean as carefully as he could that this was not the way actual Chinese people prepared their food. Sam had thrown his head back and laughed at this proclamation, while Dean took his turn to shake his head and look amused and offended at the same time. No one talked about the proverbial "elephant in the room", the fact that they would soon be face to face with Amara and had no idea how to stop her whatsoever. Castiel looked at Dean, as Dean carefully blew his straw at Sam, and smiled just a little bit. As much as he had ruined, as much as he had hurt, the Righteous Man was still able to smile and engage in innocent childlike behavior with his brother. For a moment, it was enough, just to see Sam and Dean laughing. Too soon, they got back on the road, headed to Alaska. 

50 hours in, after many turns switching off driving and sleeping, even Dean had to admit they needed to pull over and get some rest before they reached their destination. Pulling over at the first grungy motel they could find, Sam got them a room, and they stumbled off towards it. Castiel headed toward the pull out couch, but was interrupted by Sam tripping over the nightstand and sprawling on the floor, where he promptly fell asleep. "Sammy, you oaf, get up." Dean huffed, and looked toward Castiel. "Help me drag Mr. Comatose here into bed?" Castiel nodded and went to Sam's side, where he and Dean hoisted Sam high enough they could roll him onto the bed. "You should sleep too, Dean." Dean nods, "Man, I am wiped, but not to be a chick or anything, Cas, do you need anything?" Castiel thought for a moment, wondering mostly why Dean thought it fell to women to ask simple questions, but eventually gave up and shook his head, mind blurry. He was simply too tired for intellect. Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "Night, Cas." Dean promptly passed out into his own bed. "Goodnight, Dean" Castiel said quietly as he laid on the pullout. The whole room stank, but he was sure Sam and Dean had stayed in worse places. He wondered, for a moment, what it would be like to truly be human. What it would be like going to sleep knowing that someone loved him. Sam and Dean never said they loved each other, but it was obvious that they did. Castiel wondered what that would be like. What love would be like. Love was something angels could never afford. When he had been a full angel, he was considered abnormal because he was fond of Dean and Sam. Simple fondness had been out of the question to his brothers and sisters. Now, though, in his mostly fallen state, he felt certain that he could feel love. That, in fact, he did love someone. Two people, actually. And they lay in beds across the room. Castiel wistfully imagined what it must be like to be loved back, or to just be loved. Now he was repeating himself, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He lay in the dark, angel enough to have trouble sleeping but human enough to need it, wondering in the dark, if he had ever been deserving of love, or if he ever would.


	8. The Cost of Fondness

Packing their gear to the best of their knowledge, Castiel, Sam, and Dean set off the last few hours towards Amara. They haven't been driving more than an hour when the sky begins to blacken, unnatural stillness spreading through the landscape. Dean turns the car towards where the source of the stillness and blackness seems to be coming from. Sam shakes his head, and with a questioning look from Castiel, begins to laugh. "You know, sometimes I still can't believe that it's our lives that we actually look for the most horrible, awful, death inducing things and then we drive right at them." Dean shrugs, "better than wondering why the world is fallin' to pieces and you can't do nothin' about it." Castiel remains quiet, knowing that if he were to add to the conversation it would go something like "Most of the time it's my fault the world is falling apart." Somehow he feels like Dean would take offense to that, and Sam would get that terrible sadness on his face, and Castiel is simply tired of making the people he loves sad and upset.

Castiel has been thinking about love, ever since last night when he found himself unable to sleep at all. He has made his peace with dying at Amara's hands, but the one thing Castiel knows he will regret is never having been loved. It's no matter. Angels weren't meant to be loved, weren't made to be loved. Castiel should really be better than this, but still, he dwells on it. He remembers Metatron's cultural download, and he recalls from Metatron's information how humans write about feeling loved. About how it fills a hollow in their soul, how it warms them paradoxically from the inside out, how it causes them to do "crazy things". Castiel has felt many human emotions, human feelings, but can't help the twinge of regret that he obviously missed the most important emotion of humanity. Feeling love born of Free Will. It's what separates Humans, makes them special. The depths and beauty with which they can love others. Being loved, Castiel supposes it would be on his "bucket list", should an Angel of the Lord ever have such a thing. 

He puts those thoughts aside as Dean begins to speak. "So, here's the plan. We go with all of our weapons. You guys distract her and I'll stab her from the back. She thinks I can't hurt her cause of our 'Special bond' or some crap like that. Well, I'll shank her, see how we bond then." Sam shakes his head but wisely says nothing. Castiel nods, "whatever you think is wise, Dean." Dean laughs darkly. "Cas, I ain't ever been wise in my life, but thanks for the vote of confidence." Sam opens his mouth, presumably to add something, but instead shouts "DEAN! THERE!" Dean swerves the car and screeches to a halt, for there stands Amara, hands raised in the middle of an empty field, as if she was waiting for them.

As they get out of the car, Amara smirks. "I've been waiting for you, Dean." Dean walks forward slowly and speaks gently, as if in a trance. "Amara, you've got to stop this 'destroying the world' plan. There's lots of good things in this world." She laughs, "That's for you to say. My brother created all of this for you. For me, there is no place. No home. My brother has left me nowhere to exist, nothing. Yet he does not kill me. What, I ask, did I ever do to Him to deserve such a fate? I will carve out my own place in Creation, by remaking it in my own image! You, Dean, shall be at my side for all of eternity." While Dean and Amara speak, Castiel and Sam slowly circle around behind Amara. They haven't taken but one step past her field of vision when they are bodily lifted and thrown to the ground in front of Amara by an unseen force. Her voice slowly becomes more shrill. "You think you can just stop me? I am all powerful!" She exerts pressure, and Sam and Castiel begin to groan with pain as their bodies are forcibly squeezed. Castiel is sure that he hears Sam's ribs snap. Risking a glance, he feels the pressure grow and Sam cries out as his leg visibly breaks. Sam grows pale, then more worring, falls silent. Dean just stands there, looking at Amara like some sort of magnet is attracting them. Castiel snarls at Amara, suddenly angry. "You cannot have earth, and you cannot have Dean."

Amara laughs shrilly and throws her arms into the air. Black Lightening shoots from her fingertips, stealing light from the sky instead of adding to it, and the earth rumbles. "You can take NOTHING from me, Castiel! You may be one of my brother's firstborn, but you have nothing. NOTHING! There is no place for you in my new Creation." With that, she lifts Castiel into the air with a flick of her wrist. The muted horror on Sam's face causes Castiel the slightest pause, but he keeps his face stoic. Perhaps she will expend enough energy trying to kill him that she will be weak enough to be killed by his Winchesters, or that at least she will spare Sam. "YOUR WINCHESTERS?!" Amara shrieks. Apparently she reads thoughts. That explains much, thinks Castiel. "YOU ARE NOTHING!" She flexes her fingers, and Castiel begins to scream.

Blinding pain, coursing through his veins, his very cells on fire, his Grace an all consuming inferno. There has never been pain like this. It goes on for centuries, feeling his very atoms rebel and rip at his very self. He screams, and screams and screams. At some point, he registers that Dean is screaming too, but there is nothing he or Castiel can do. A million universes create and implode, his throat splits in two, his spine rends in half, each atom, each piece of Grace flayed alive as he screams. Scalded as if by burning water, frozen as if left in the tundra, flayed and torn as if beaten with glass and thorns, acid like poison, agony unending. There is no Castiel, there is nothing but agony, beyond the comprehension of any language. He hears his siblings screaming too, his pain so immensely destroying it is echoing in the minds of the living angels. At least four milleniums after it started, Amara relents, and Castiel falls to the ground, weeping, gasping. Dean has knelt by his side. "Cas? Cas buddy I'm here." He registers that Sam is holding his hand, and wishes he wouldn't, the nerves still tremble. Amara turns an angry gaze on Dean. "Forget about him, Dean. He is not important to our future together. None of them are." She extends a hand to Dean.

Dean clearly fights her pull, veins in his neck stand out as he strains against her power over him. However, he eventually stands slowly, clearly under lost under some sort of spell by Amara. His eyes betray his true feelings, however, and in Dean's eyes lies a galaxy of pain, a book of sadness and fear and protectiveness that only Castiel can read. That only Castiel has ever been able to read. The soul of the Righteous Man cries out against this captivity. Castiel cannot let this happen to Dean. He crawls, ignoring Sam's splutters, hand over over hand, a death-like crawl. His mind an endless litany of "Protect Dean. Protect Dean. Protect Dean."He makes it in front of Dean before he collapses at his feet. "N-n-no." Amara's eyes flash, and she raises her hand threateningly, which Castiel cringes at, to his shame. "Time to end your misery, Castiel. You have been far much more trouble than you are worth." A sphere of blackness grows in her hand, and Castiel knows it is the end, and he closes his eyes. Castiel hears the blast, but feels no pain, blessedly. He hears Sam cry out, and then he hears Amara scream. Amara? He cracks an eye open to see Dean throw himself in front of Castiel, before falling to the ground in front of him, an enormous, ragged hole blown through his chest cavity. It feel like a huge void has been created as the Righteous Man, his Righteous Man falls to the ground, dead. A scream of anguish fills the air, and Castiel doesn't know whether it is Sam, Amara, or maybe even himself. Time has frozen. Surely the world will not spin on, this loss too great. 

Castiel becomes aware of Amara gasping. "this can't be... But why? My bonded one...." Then Amara screams in pain, and Castiel notes absently that light is pouring out of her Mark of Cain. And that light is steadily growing, ripping through her skin. Amara stutters "N-no. It can't be... I can't be defeated by anything or anyone, even my brother." Sam crawls forward to Dean, gasping every step as his shattered ribs and leg drag along the ground, and sobbing because Sam knows what he will find when he reaches his brother, father, mother, his family. He makes it over to Dean an eternity later, pulling his brother into his arms. "You're wrong, Amara," he chokes out, "'In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it'. It says that in the Bible your brother helped write. Light can defeat you Amara. And that light is Love." Amara gazes at Castiel, and then to Dean's body. "He loved... you? You pathetic little bug? I'll kill you and defeat this Love once and for all!" She aims again, weaker this time, shaky from all the light pouring from her dominant arm and now shoulder. Sam rises to his knees just as Amara sets off her second, much smaller ball of Darkness, effectively shielding Castiel from the blow. It glances off Sam's cheek and he falls on his hands, spitting blood out of his mouth. "Dean... Wasn't... the only one who loves Cas." Amara's eyes narrow in distain and then widen with surprise as her chest begins to pour out light as well. Castiel shuts his eyes as the world around them explodes into light so bright it's blinding, even behind closed eyelids. It's no matter, really. His world already ended. When he opens his eyes again, Castiel can see that Amara is gone, and he knows in his Grace that this time it is for good.

Sam falls over his brother's broken body. Castiel's mind stutters. SAM. Dean. DEAN.


	9. O My Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter while listening to this song on a loop: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2ZKKXCuaYc  
> Call it my inspiration. It's about a father grieving for his son. While Dean is not a son to Castiel, I felt like the grief of losing someone so close to you, that you love and feel the need to protect was very similar. So, I felt like this song was Castiel grieving.  
> I encourage you to listen to it, if you like your heart ripped out (like I apparently do).  
> Or listen while you read the chapter!

Sam, Dean. _My brothers_ , Castiel thinks, as he ignores the trembling in his vessel and slides next to the broken body of Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man. Sam is sitting next to him, bleeding profusely from his face and broken leg but ignoring it entirely in favor of holding Dean's hand and staring into his unseeing green eyes. Castiel puts his hand on Dean's chest, throwing his Grace forth, hoping for a miracle he knew would not occur. His Grace searched, but could not heal. You need a soul to be touched by Grace so that the body may heal, and Dean's soul has left his body. A final sign of death.

Castiel looks at Dean's body, searching with his eyes for a sign that this broken body used to house the brightest soul that he had ever encountered. There is no light in his eyes, Dean isn't yelling at Sam or Castiel to give him personal space, and his face doesn't read annoyed fondness like it normally does when he looks at Castiel. What lies before him is the empty shell of his best friend. His best friend who had loved him. _Loved him._ A great shuddering gasp overtakes his body, and Castiel feels wetness making its way down his cheeks as his body wracks with sobs. Dean can't go. Can't leave him. What is he supposed to do, who is he supposed to be, now that he is gone? Castiel feels like most of himself has died.

He hears a cough, and looks up to see Sam crying as well, and coughing up blood. Castiel puts himself in soldier mode for a moment. This brother, he can heal, and Sam needs his help right now. He reaches out a hand to Sam, which Sam takes without question. Pulsing his Grace, Castiel feels and sees that Sam has broken several ribs, as well as his leg, and his skull is cracked from where Amara had hit him with the Darkness. Castiel sends out gentle, healing waves to Sam, much like an ocean. He heals Sam's leg, ebbing the pain away from Castiel's last remaining family. He heals his ribs next, tenderly putting them back into place with his Grace. When he gets to the skull fracture, he feels tiny shrapnel from the Darkness in the wound. He attacks the darkness with his Grace, pounding against the little shards with all the affection and fondness he feels for the younger Winchester. the pieces melt away and he finishes healing Sam. Sam looks up, gratefully, not letting go of Castiel's hand. Castiel understands, it's an anchor, and its anchoring them both so that they don't fall apart into the desolation of their own minds.

"We should move him to the car." Sam croaks out, taking a deep breath and raking his fingers over his face, a gesture he unknowingly picked up from Dean. "He'd want to be buried near the bunker." Castiel nods, and together he and Sam gently lift Dean's body between them and carry him carefully to the car, where they wrap him in a blanket, Castiel gently closes Dean's eyes, so that he could almost pretend his friend was only sleeping. Sam moves to drive, but he is still trembling and shaking with grief. Castiel puts his hand on Sam's shoulder, and holds out his hand for the keys. Sam nods and passes them wordlessly to Castiel, taking shotgun. He methodically sits, checks the mirrors, and then turns the key in the ignition. Led Zeppelin starts blasting out, and the pain of the familiar tune is so profound, Castiel finds he cannot bear it and turns it off. Sam is pale, and listless, so Castiel just begins the long drive back home, to the bunker.

The hours drag endlessly, and Castiel finds himself in a cycle of disbelief, despair, and overwhelming grief as his thoughts are consumed by the body in the backseat. Sam is silent for the first few hours, but begins to cry, louder and louder and more brokenly. When Sam starts to have Hell flashbacks, Castiel pulls over and tries to calm the young Winchester. Sam squeezes his palm, slicing it open before Castiel can stop him and pressing insistently on it. "It's not real. It's not real." He mutters to himself. Castiel reaches out for him, and Sam flinches violently. "Don't touch me! Stop! Please!" Castiel forces calm into his voice and speaks carefully to Sam. It takes a little while to talk him down, and Castiel doesn't know if it's worse that Sam thinks he is in Hell or that what he is most afraid of is actually real. That this isn't some torture concocted by Lucifer. It's reality, and the reality is that his brother is dead in the backseat. And if what Sam had told Cas a couple months ago held true, they would never see Dean again, not in this life, and not in any afterlife. He was truly, gone. 

Eventually, Sam falls asleep across the seat. Castiel continues to drive throughout the night, between his Grace and his grief, he needs no sleep. He just drives mindlessly, occasionally resting his hand on Sam's shoulder when he starts to cry out. It occurs at some point to Castiel that this is the one of only times that Dean has died that Sam wasn't alone to deal. The first hundred times Dean had died, in the mystery spot, Sam had been all alone, forced to see his brother die day after day at the hands of Gabriel. Then, when Dean had gone to hell, Bobby was with him, but Sam in his grief had quickly run from Bobby. Every other time after that, Sam had been left to face the loss of his brother alone. This time, Castiel resolved, he would make sure that Sam was never left alone. It was what Dean would want, and it was what Sam deserved. 

Castiel's mind couldn't stay blank forever, no matter how hard he tried, and he eventually had to face the reality of what had happened. Dean had died, right in front of his eyes. He hadn't been able to stop it. Not only that, Dean had died _for_ Castiel. Didn't Dean know that Castiel wasn't worth it? Amara had said.... and Sam had said... Dean had loved him? That Sam loved him? The thought rips at Castiel, tearing him apart inside. How long had he been cared about by Sam and Dean, and never known? Castiel had never told the Winchesters that he cared, and they'd never said it to him. Did Dean know that Castiel loved him too? That he was Castiel's family as much as he was Dean's?

Castiel's heart rips in two. He'd wished for this. To be loved. To be truly family. He had been, and he had broken his family because of it. Now Castiel thought it might have been better to have never been loved at all. To have never loved another person. If they hadn't cared about him, they would have been safe. Now he has learned what it is like to lose family, like this. To lose his best friend. All because of him. There is a howling storm of rage and pain tearing through Castiel, screaming into every part of him, tearing him apart. He wants to die, to join Dean. But he can't. More than anything else, he wants Dean back. He just wants Dean back. He bargains mentally to his Father. It would be fine if Dean hated him. He would let Dean hate him and send him away every day for eternity as long as Dean was alive. As long as he knew that Dean was safe, Castiel didn't matter. He prayed and bargained, but each time he looked into the backseat, the body was unchanged. Still uninhabited by the Righteous Man.

The drive is an endless cycle: putting gasoline in the Impala, forcing Sam to eat something, bargaining to a Father who isn't listening, waking up a screaming and sobbing Sam. Calming Sam down. Repeat. It goes on for eternity. Castiel's very being hurts, down to the very last atom. At times he feels mindless, the very robot Dean thought he was when they'd first met, and other times a whirling storm of emotion that felt to Castiel as though it could crack him open from the inside, but still, he drives. Every thought brings Dean to the front of his mind, and every thought of Dean drives a dagger into his heart.

After what feels like months of driving, Castiel pulls the Impala in the Bunker's garage. Sam had woken up but stayed silent throughout the drive. And no matter how hard Castiel had bargained, there was still only a corpse in the back seat. Sam and Castiel together dug a grave, deciding that Dean could not be burned, must be buried. They chose a place on a hill, where Castiel had occasionally watched the sunrise. It was tiring manual labor, but it was unspoken that Dean deserved their labor. The best that they could give. Together, Castiel and Sam buried Dean Winchester. Then they sat, Brother and Angel, and waited through the night for the sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet! Let me know what your thoughts are! I love reading you guys' comments!


	10. The Dawn

As the sun rose red over the hill where Sam Winchester and Castiel sat, Castiel couldn't help but wonder at his Father's creation. It was baffling, really. His Father had made all of these wonderful, glorious things, and then left it? It still made little sense to Castiel. But nothing made less sense than the freshly turned earth under his feet, where the body of Dean Winchester lay. All the things that Castiel wished he had asked, wished he had said. Castiel, weapon of the mighty Winchesters, had failed in his purpose, to save and help Dean, his first charge, whom he was to guard and protect. Really, what Castiel was wondering on this bitter day was whether or not to take his own life.

The answer was pointing to yes. After all, he had failed. He had lost one Winchester and irreparably broken the other. The only thing holding Castiel back from ending it all right now was Sam. He still might be useful to Sam. He was still a weapon, after all. A useless, broken weapon, but a weapon nonetheless. Additionally, Castiel knew that loneliness could drive a person insane faster than just about any other method he had ever known. While Castiel was sure his company was worthless and likely unnecessary, he still worried that leaving Sam without any being to talk to could hurt him even more. And Castiel never hurt a Winchester if he could help it. Not ever. Still, the weight upon his heart increased until he felt nearly crushed by it. Castiel wanted nothing more to die, but it was simply not his place to orchestrate it. Sam should be the one who decided when, where, and how Castiel died, if he ever did. Sam should do it himself, even, if it helped him assuage his grief over Dean. After all, Castiel should have been the one to die, deserved to be the one that died.

As he sat in silence, the sun grew higher in the sky, and Castiel began to notice a strange spot upon the sun. Castiel had been to the sun many times, of course, and never had there been such a strange spot as this. He stood and took a few steps forward, forgetting for a moment that he no longer had the strength to fly. The ground beneath him began to rumble. In fact, the whole earth felt as if it was shaking. Sam sat where he had been before, gazing dully into space. Castiel closed the distance between them, grabbed Sam's arm, and pulled him towards the bunker. He was unsure what help that would give but that did not lessen his determination to do so. Sam went with him quietly, and Castiel hurried them both into the safety of the bunker as the earth shook.

Several minutes later, the ground stilled. Castiel turned on the news, to see how widespread this quake had been. The television played only static, however. Just then, the lights flickered and went out. This turn of events was unsurprising, as Castiel was sure from an earthquake this bad the power lines had been shaken and likely broken. The blackness was total, and Castiel had no idea where Sam and Dean kept emergency lights. Fortunately an emergency light kicked on just then, and Castiel used its glow to wander through the bunker to find flashlights. Sam just sat in a chair, accepting the darkness wordlessly. However, as Castiel entered a room on the far side of the bunker, he heard Sam scream. An awful, hoarse scream that echoed off the walls. Castiel ran towards the sound, silent and ready for attack. As he entered the war room where Sam was, he tensed and looked around, but Sam was just sitting in the chair Castiel had left him in, screaming his head off. Castiel drops to his knees and shouts for Sam, but Sam is lost in his own head.

A sense of power grows in Castiel's mind and the door to the bunker swings open. Sam stops screaming abruptly and they both look to the door to see... "Chuck?" Castiel asks, dumbfounded, for Chuck Shirley has walked through the door to the bunker, and the sense of power is coming from him. Chuck smiles, and it is not Chuck that Castiel sees. Castiel drops to one knee. "Father?" The voice that responds emanates with power, the sound of things created and destroyed. "Yes, Castiel." Castiel is struck silent in the presence of the Father he was certain he would never see again. He is overcome with the shame and guilt of everything that he has done wrong, all the destruction of his Father's creation. "I know what you think, Castiel, and you are wrong." Castiel raises his eyes to look upon the face of his Father. "You have done well, Castiel. But it is not only you who I have come for." Castiel hasn't even finished trying to figure out the answer when his Father answers him. "I have come for Dean Winchester."

Castiel turns to look at Sam, who in turn is looking at God with a mixture of hope and pain written on his face. "Samuel, Castiel, you have both sacrificed much for humanity. I left, long ago, because it seemed clear that hope was gone in this universe. You, my children, and Dean as well, have proven me wrong. There is hope for all of my children. This, as I have seen in your minds, was in spite of my absence, not because of it. You caused me to take a second look at my Creation, and I see now the pain that absent fathers create." He turns to Sam. "I saw, Samuel Winchester, how your own Father's abandonment hurt you. Castiel, I felt your pain, your longing to search for me. I regret now not having been there for my many children." He smiles slightly at Sam and Castiel, and walks over to him, touching Castiel on the head where he kneels. Castiel feels his Grace knit itself back together. "A Hunter Angel. You know, I quite like that idea. You have done well, my son." He touches Sam as well, speaking something so quiet that Castiel cannot hear it, and Sam straightens slightly. "I feel your collective pain at losing Dean Winchester. I will return to my place in Heaven, but do not think I have forgotten about you." Then, as soon as he came, God is gone. 

Castiel looks at Sam, hoping that somewhere in Sam's face proves what he just experienced was real, but the power surging through his Grace tells him that it was. The door to the bunker swings open again, and when Castiel looks up, he sees the rugged face of his best friend. "Dean," Castiel chokes out, rising to his feet. Sam is off like a rocket, sprinting to Dean and throwing his arms around him. Dean, in turn, hugs Sam back tight, and they stay like that for a moment, Sam tucking his head into Dean's shoulder. Castiel has the distinct impression that Sam is crying. Finally, they part, and Dean grins cockily at Castiel. "Back as good as new, eh Cas?" Castiel nods, and finds a smile slipping across his own face as Dean hugs him as well. Castiel remembers to hug back this time.

"I thought you were in the Void, Dean," Sam says as they sit down to coffee. Sam made it himself, so it's the good kind. "I was," Dean admits, taking a sip from his mug. "It was dark and I was all alone and then, I heard Chuck's voice, but it wasn't Chuck's voice, calling me back. I woke up sitting on top of that hill outside the bunker. Dang, it's really hard to imagine that the little weasel had the potential to be God all along. What happened while I was out?" 

When they finish filling Dean in, his jaw drops, but he nods in satisfaction. Castiel finds himself unable to hold back his one question any longer. "Dean, why did you die for me?" Dean chuckles, and looks Castiel in the eyes, his own green eyes twinkling gently. "Because I care about you, you dork. It's my job." He winks at Castiel, and Castiel finds himself smiling slightly, but sobers enough to answer, "I don't deserve it though, Dean. Not from either of you." Sam sits back in his chair, obviously enjoying Dean's general loss for words when it comes to "chick flick moments". Dean quiets for a minute, shooting an eye roll in Sam's direction. Then he turns to Castiel, "If you haven't noticed Cas, you're family, and family looks out for each other." Sam throws in, clearly unable to let Dean attempt to articulate on his own. "Yeah, Cas. We all three look out for each other. That's what family does." Castiel is unable to speak. He waits for Sam and Dean to start laughing, to let him in on their joke. But they don't. He decides to remind them. "But what if I am powerless again? What if I can't help you?" Dean looks confused, so Sam covers for him. "Still family, Cas. No matter what." Dean nods. Castiel waits for them to laugh, but still they do not. 

Finally, he realizes that they mean it. That he is family. Castiel, the fallen, broken angel. After all he has destroyed, hurt, broken, shattered. After all of his mistakes, his pride, his hubris. After everything, Castiel is accepted. Castiel is family. As the reality sinks in, Castiel feels his eyes begin to fill. Apparently tears aren't only limited to the human condition. He stares in wonder at Sam and Dean, two broken boys who put an Angel back together. His family. _His family._ He has never seen anything so perfect, so wonderful in his existence. He is still a little broken, a little messed up, but so are Sam and Dean. As long as they want him around, a little broken is okay. He prays a prayer of thanks to his Father, who hopefully is listening now.

Dean smacks his mug on the table. "Well that's that! No more chick flick moments, I'm turning into Sammy here. Let's go hunt something. Save somebody. The family business."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think! I love hearing from you all!


End file.
